Enlightenment
by Magician Irono
Summary: We can all learn something every now and then.
1. Chapter 1

Another fic inspired by another fic. This time it was _Could He? _by wesome. Just the idea of Bruce being able to communicate with the Hulk. And as far as the comics and cartoons go, I think it's happened before. But after some more thought, another supposedly original idea came to me( not that wesome's story was bad- very sweet if you ask me). But Loki explains that part later on. I won't spoil it for now.

You may notice that Loki is a member of the avengers now. This was made possible through a story of my own, _Repentance. _Sadly that story is not complete, but I will get to it eventually. In the meantime, check it out if you like. I don't mind. :)

The Avengers is owned by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby. _Could He?_ is owned by wesome. I hope you all enjoy the show!

**Enlightenment**

Everyone has a morning routine- a process with which to wash away the groggy weight of a too deep sleep and prepare for the day's demands. Steve was one of the few with enough discipline to perform a few exercises and stretches to pump the flow of his blood. After a quick shower (and maybe an aspirin if he had a bit too much fun the prior night), Tony would be picking the favored of his designer clothes and colognes. Natasha divided her time in the bathroom: one part before and one part after breakfast. Much more convenient for the other occupants, as well as the lady herself. But whatever the length or process, everyone within the tower would accumulate to the kitchen for coffee, pop tarts, and for any other food items produced that morning (always changing depending on who had the duty of cooking). Currently the redhead stood at the stove, flipping pancakes, dotted with various ingredients such as blueberries, strawberry bits and chocolate chips. A half full pot of coffee sat on the counter. Tony, Clint and Steve sat at the table, conversing some and munching on steaming, hot, delicious breakfast. The morning was another fine one in stark tower. Sadly, not for all of them.

Bruce staggered into the room with a stack of folders and notes tucked loosely under his arm, hardly noticing that he had banged his shoulder on the frame of the door. Wrinkled sweatpants, an askew t-shirt, and a mussed mop of hair sagged on his already deflated form. The reddened slits for eyes were not even necessary for one to tell that sleep had been a tease that night. Dr. Banner pulled up a chair, set down the papers, folded his arms and rested his forehead.

Clint, a morning person, couldn't help but notice Bruce's odd behavior. "Hey," greeted the archer with a friendly poke. "What's up?"

A groan sounded.

"I'm sorry, what?" Clint leaned in.

"Coffee. . ."

The blonde leaned back. "Well, you should'a come down earlier. Tasha makes a pretty mean cup of coffee. It's old by now so-"

Bruce turned his head slowly and replied with a green tinted glare.

"So I'll warm up some for ya. Sound good?"

The scientist closed his eyes again.

"Alrighty then. I'm on it."

As Clint rummaged in the cabinets for a mug, Steve moved his chair as to give Bruce a bit of much needed space. Tony, on the other hand, scootched his seat a little closer. Of course he knew sleep deprivation better then anyone, on anyone and in any form. This had to be the worst case he viewed yet. "You alright bro," he questioned cautiously.

Bruce rolled his head again to look at the man. One grunt and he pushed himself up to lean back into the chair. "The other guy," yawned Bruce. "I thought I had control, but I think I'm losing it. Couldn't sleep last night. . ."

"Because he was keeping you up?"

Bruce nodded. Tony blinked. Since the scientist mentioned it, other details presented themselves. Tony noticed smudges of dirt on Bruce's skin. Fir needles and sticker-bugs had been caught in his hair and a scent of pine hung gently about him. Bruce cringed at the sound of ceramic scraping across the wooden table. But he was thankful nonetheless- a cup of black coffee sat in front of him, a ribbon of steam slowly dancing upward. The fresh stain on his papers didn't seem to bother him. "Thanks. . ." The first sip was sputtered back into the cup in alarm. Bruce stared down into the liquid with wide eyes. "Holy crap that's strong." Squeezing his eyes shut he took a full gulp. "Exactly what I need. Thanks, Mrs. Romanoff."

"Uh-huh," replied the woman, flipping another pancake with a markman's precision. "You want food?"

"Not for now. Just the coffee."

"M'kay."

"So where'd you go," asked Tony. "And why to you think he's so antsy all of a sudden?"

"I don't remember." Bruce's tone was suddenly as dark as the drink in his cup. "I could at least get a few snatches of whatever the other guy did during the invasion. But last night I got nothing. Or the night before that."

"Or the one before that?"

"And the search for Loki too. . ." The scientist took another sip of his coffee. "It took me a very long time to get control of the other guy. What if I can't do it again?"

"Sir," chimed in Jarvis. "Mr. Loki seems to be having a bit of trouble locating the kitchen and refuses to accept my directions. The only other solution is for one of you to lead him in person."

Rogers stood. "I'll find him. Where is he?"

"Twenty-first floor, Mr. Rogers."

"Thanks." And the man left.

"You're over-thinking this too much," stated Barton. "Maybe the Hulk was freaked out by the invasion, too. We all were and still are. Maybe he'll calm down eventually."

"I don't like 'eventually'. . ."

"Maybe's the guy's got a point, Brucey. If you've gone a year without an incident, you've got enough self control to get past this."

The scientist looked to Clint, then Tony. For a moment Dr. Banner was silent, staring intently at his mug. "I don't think so." He tightened his grip in the container. "Yes, I went a year without any. . .unfortunate accidents. But I can't contain him all the time- that I know for sure. That and the incidents weren't caused by any of the normal triggers. I can't control what I can't predict."

"Normal triggers?"

"Anger, fear, injury- anything that speeds my heart rate."

Clint blinked. Slowly he reached for the mug and took a hold of the handle. Bruce jerked the cup away. "No," he pouted. "This doesn't count."

"But that's caffeine." Clint pulled again.

"And I'm still tired." Bruce pulled back.

"Give it."

"No."

"C'mon."

"_No._"

"Dangit, Bruce!"

The scientist snarled, a faint radioactive glow in his eyes. Clint released the cup. Bruce turned his seat around, fingers curled possessively around his coffee. He sipped with shifty eyes. Clint smacked his palm to his forehead. "Don't worry," reassured Tony. "It's probably him more that the Hulk."

"You'd better be right. And weren't you scared about that happening just a little bit ago?"

Bruce turned his head over his shoulder. The hurt was evident. "But I didn't get any sleep last night."

"Then _go back to sleep._"

"We have work to do today."

"Then do it later."

"I got too much though."

A soft clap on Bruce's shoulder silenced him quick. The other two went quiet as well. "Hop to that work, then," stated Natasha. "Get done what you can today and take a break when you need it. I'm sure Tony'll happily pick up what little slack you have at the end of the day. You understand, right?"

Clint nodded with Tony despite not being a part of the plan. Bruce stood up. "I'll get cleaned up then. See you in the lab, Tony." With that the man left.

"Guess that's our ques, too." Tony stood. "Let's get to it. Busy day and there's a lot of stuff to do-"

"COMRADES! THE POP TARTS HAVE DISAPPEARED!"

". . .Like buying more pop tarts for Thor." Tony maybe blinked and Natasha and Clint had vanished. Thor came into the room, urgently demanding a replenished supply of the packaged treats. And so the work began for the Avengers.

**Breakline**

Productivity had been hindered quite a bit. More than once did Bruce need a moment to rub his eyes and stretch out. But that wasn't to say work wasn't done. Some enemy analysis here, a report there and Bruce had a sufficient handful of information for Director Fury to look over. The scientist looked about the lab for Tony, but the man was nowhere to be found. Puzzled, Bruce stood up. He checked around the corners and out into the hallways. Still no Tony to be found. "Jarvis," called Banner. "You wouldn't happen to know where Tony went, would you?"

"Sir was last seen in the basement, searching for printer paper for the reports."

"Right. Thanks, Jarvis."

"The pleasure is mine, Dr. Banner."

Down the elevator and through some rooms, Bruce was getting closer to the room Tony was searching in. Each hallway had been painted on color- a light, almost periwinkle-like blue. Losing your way was not uncommon, but fortunately Bruce had spent enough time in the tower to be able to navigate it's labyrinthine rooms, stairs and elevators. Reaching the basement storage room was not difficult.

But just before he reached the room, Bruce heard sounds from a room he passed. The man stopped and pressed his ear to the wall. _Grunting. And rough pats of sound._ A door stood not too far away. Bruce peered inside. _The training gym. _While weights and punching bags had been ignored, the red wrestling mats in the middle were occupied by two men: Steve. . .and Loki? Bruce had forgotten his purpose for coming down and pushed the door open. He walked closer. Indeed, Rogers was instructing the recruit in the basics of hand-to-hand combat. "Use your whole body when dealing a blow," explained the captain, gently guiding Loki with his hands to pivot the smaller body body in a slow motion jab. "You become more powerful when every part is working together." Loki nodded. Steve walked to a corner of the mat and slid two punching pads on his hands. The blonde held up both. "Start off slow."

"For form," stated the smaller.

"Exactly. Gimme a jab."

Loki squared off his feet, fists up and leaning forward slightly (as Steve had instructed before Bruce's entrance). Extending his arm and turning his body, the jotun's fist hit the pad.

"One more time."

Loki complied.

"Remember to exhale with every hit. Jab, cross."

The trainee forced puffs of air out of his nose as he dealt both punches, turning on the ball of his foot for the second.

"Again. Add a hook."

Bruce took a seat to watch, immersed in the display. What a sight to see Loki taking orders from someone other than himself. But the real beauty- the real wonder- was in the sweat and hard work Loki was putting into his training. Beads of sweat raced down his icy blue skin- a sign of the jotun's focus. The blows stacked up. Loki quickened his pace. Steve swung the pads in a flat arc. The smaller ducked low, fists still guarding his face. Weariness took over for a moment. Bruce leaned forward as Loki slouched and let his arms swing to his sides. "Does it hurt," asked Steve.

A nod.

"Pain is the reason to get back up. Weakness leaving the body, pouring out of you like a monsoon. Can you feel it? Like shedding an old skin and getting stronger?"

The jotun looked up. Bruce listened intently.

"You're rising from your own ashes, Loki. That isn't something to give up on, especially not for you."

Quiet. Loki clenched his fists, gritted his teeth. He charged with an arms pulled back. "Hraaagh!" More blows were made. Steve staggered back a step or two but kept the pads up. Bruce stood up to get a closer look, to marvel at this fresh display of power and precision. How frightening- the strength, the agility, the fresh fire that burned so viciously.

"Don't give up," shouted Steve. Very strange to see him this intense as well. "You can be a fighter, too! Thirty seconds! Don't give up!"

The smaller snarled through his teeth. Another hard punch. Bruce forgot to close his mouth, but somehow remembered he still held the papers and reports, hugging them tight to his chest.

"Twenty seconds! Don't stop!"

Loki was giving it his all, even as his arms began to wilt again. That small man was tearing himself down only to be rebuild again.

"Ten seconds!"

With so much effort, surely there was not an ounce of room for shame.

"Three!"

Loki bit his lip. A few beads of sweat flew off as an uppercut was thrown.

"Two!"  
No doubt the burn was a horrid one. Bruce could remember his own early training in Brazil. _C'mon, keep going_, he pleaded quietly.

"One!"

_ Don't give up, comrade!_

"Time!"

Loki stopped, dropping his arms and breathing heavy.

"Good job. Shake out your arms and get some water. One lap around the room and a good stretch says you're done."

Boy was the blue man grateful for that. He stretches his arms across his chest as he walks towards a corner of the mat. Bruce watched them and smiled._ He really is trying hard to be a part of the team._ And what a warming thought that was, like a flower growing through a crack in the concrete. The scientist smiled to himself.

"Gngh!"

In a split second Bruce found himself on the ground, fists clenched in his hair and papers scattered across the floor. The tremulous pounding in his chest, the tightening airways, the searing burn that mauled every nerve in his body- there was no doubt about it. _I have to get out of here! _Eyes swimming with green, the poor man tried to pull himself back up, but a new stab of utter power knocked him down again. Power that his small body couldn't handle. Bruce's ears were flooded with a threatening roar and the sound of rushing blood. His skin burned. His vision blurred. Bones and muscles were shifting and expanding at an alarming rate. "No," screamed the man. "Stop! Stop it!" But the screams began to meld into animal grunts.

_ Stop!_

And as if his wish were granted, time froze. In that moment, two details articulated themselves in the storm of madness and savagery. One was a pair of glowing blood-red eyes. The glare paralyzed both Bruce and the Hulk it seemed. The next was a command. A single haunting, yet mesmerizing utterance, like a minor chord.

_"Sleep."_

The green had faded into black. Bruce didn't even feel the other guy fade enough to make sure the others would be secure before he reluctantly fell into a heavy slumber.

**Breakline**

Waking up was about as gradual as falling asleep- being not at all. Every sound and light hit Bruce like a train. Why did his peace and quiet have to go? There was a low growl in the back of his mind and the man's eyes flew open. He sat up bolt right and immediately his surroundings spun. Pain stabbed Bruce hard and he couldn't help but whimper. The man began to fall, but never hit the floor. He blinked. The swirl of his surroundings started to rearrange itself into its proper form. A bright sunset plowed through a wall made entirely of windows. Other parts of the room consisted of a plasma screen, a plant in the corner, and various pieces of furniture scattered about. The too strong odor of cologne found it's way up his nose. Bruce looked up. "Tony?"

"Welcome back, big guy."

Bruce sat up, one hand on his friend's shoulder for support. Not only had Tony stayed by his side, but the rest of the team as well. Natasha, Clint, Thor, Tony, Steve- even Loki decided to take watch. The jotun turned his head and pouted, folding his arms. "I was weary when I cast my spell," he stated. "I was only here to make sure it kept you down. No if you'll all excuse me, I need to bathe." Loki stormed out of the room.

"He'll get lost again," muttered Natasha.

"You alright, soldier," asked Steve. "You started hulking out on us in the training gym. It's a good thing Loki put you down when he did."

"They said you were having a really hard time with it too," commented Clint. "You were right when you said you were losing control."

Bruce rubbed his eye, head hung in shame. Snatches of the event slowly filtered back in. "Did I hurt anyone," he asked.

"I am pleased to confirm that there were no casualties to asses, Dr. Banner," sounded Jarvis. "Would you like a stream of footage of the incident?"

"That won't be necessary, Jarvis," interjected Tony.

"The tower is right, friend" stated Thor. "You did not kill or injure your fellow teammates. We are all sound and unharmed."

"Um, Mr. Odinson? I'm not actually _the_ tow-"

"Fear not, Jarvis the tower, for we accept you as one of our own!"

The scientist attempted a smile. "Thanks you guys. For watching out for me. I really appreciate it."

"It's what we do, bro!" Tony threw up a thumb. "There's no need to thank us, you know."

Bruce chuckled. "Yeah. . ."

"Well, I'm hungry" Natasha stood from her seat on the armchair. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm getting food."

"That's a pretty good plan," commented Clint, following the woman.

"Good plan of attack for the fridge?"

"I get that joke!"

"Wow. Really Tony?"

"Yeah, really. Someone call reindeer games down. Better yet, go find him again, Steve. You're the only one he listens to."

"Alright then. . ."

One by one they all filed out. The door shut. Bruce remained on the couch he had been lain on. The door opened. Tony peered in. "Hey, you commin? Everyone's talking about ordering chinese food. Even Loki will have to eat seconds. It's a pretty hot debate though. You want to put in an opinion?"

Bruce smiled. "Thanks, but I'm not really that hungry right now. I'll come down later and get what everyone else gets, ok? Don't worry about me. I'll be alright."

Bruce didn't expect Tony to trust him after what had happened. But the man gave a nod, a "see ya" and left the room. Bruce leaned back and folded his arms. His friend had probably ordered Jarvis to keep an eye on him. And sure enough a camera had started to adjust its lense. The quiet had finally come back, but it was unsettling. The other guy was strangely silent as well. Bruce didn't like that, especially not after today. He had been calm that entire time. Giddy, maybe, and interested, but nothing to trigger a change.

"Is there anything you request, Dr. Banner," the A.I. inquired.

The doctor thought for a moment. "Draw the blinds."

The plastic fabric slid down automatically. The sun disappeared like an eye behind it's lid. Faint streaks of light leaked in between the blinds. Bruce brought his feet up on the couch and hugged up his knees.

"Anything else?'

"What time is it?"

"6:37 pm, Dr. Banner."

"Thanks, Jarvis. That's all I need for now."

"It is my pleasure, Dr. Banner. Please inform me of any other needs that cross your mind."

The quiet returned. The sunlight started to fade. Bruce was left to quell his torrent of thoughts on his own as a low growl sounded in the dark of his mind.

**Breakline**

Thor. Haha. :) Hope the comedy doesn't ruin it though. . .

Please, bare with me. I promise that it will get better. This is just an exposition, but there was some rising action too, in my defense. _Repentance _will get some work on it, too. Wish me luck, ok? And review too! I want to know what I need to improve on so I can write good stories for all of you, not just for me. So I'll see you all next time! Thanks for reading!

-Magician Irono


	2. Chapter 2

And here I crap out another chapter. This is the explanation I have and the attempt at a theory, both of which I doubt are original. But go ahead and read if you want. Enjoy the show you guys!

**Enlightenment**

A dissonant chord of awareness struck Bruce abruptly. He blinked. The man sat on the floor of an old house. The door frames were cracked. Craters sat planted deep into the drywall. Ceramics and glass lay scattered about the floor in a million broken pieces. A chilling gust swirled about the room. The man pulled at his jacket as he stood. A crackling sounded as he wandered about. Then a squeak. Bruce jerked his foot up. A small bear lay on the ground, staring up at Bruce with sad, black eyes. The man picked up the toy. Stuffing stuck out of rips in the arms, legs and neck. An ear was missing. At any moment, that small sad toy could have started crying. Bruce's own eyes even seemed to burn with a few small tears.

"No! Brian, stop it!"

And thus began the terror, the horror. Silhouetted against the wall was a man and a woman. The man's hand went up and down. She screamed as the fist rose up again. It was clear what was going on. Quicker than a reflex Bruce scrambled to his feet and rushed to the door.

But it was too late. There, in the middle of an empty, black room, lay the delicate, bloodied corpse of Rebecca Banner.

Bruce clamped his hand over his mouth. He staggered back. Standing just above the body- no, it couldn't be him. He was dead. Dead! So why was he there, laughing, while fresh blood dripped off his bare hands?!

Brian snarled. "What're you lookin at, you little freak?"

And that was it. Bruce had to flee. To run and escape, like the puny child he was. He scrambled not to the front door of the house but to another room. He ran to the closet and locked himself inside. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. The screams were almost uncontrollable- it was a wonder Bruce could keep them down. And here he was, hiding in a closet from his father. The man began to cry.

"Come out, _son_. Daddy want to see you."

Black tentacles slipped through the creases in the door, latching around the victim's limbs and middle. And Bruce was staring his father directly in the face. He had been found. He wasn't safe. Bruce scrambled, screaming screams that rang out through the empty house. No one to save him. Bruce's hand slipped on a box. He twisted his head. Out fell a black pistol.

Only one way out. Only one way to be safe and away from this madman for good. Bruce took the pistol, forcing the end into his mouth.

_Bang!_

Bruce bolted into a sitting position from his bed. Searching for something to steady himself, the man slipped off the bed and onto the floor. His heart pounded violently. Breathing was ragged and out of control, almost like a panic attack. The beast seethed and burned beneath his skin. Bruce looked around frantically, hand clamped over his chest and nails clawing the fabric. The house was gone. Mother's dead body was gone. Father was gone. Out the window danced the many colorful lights of New York City, still beating and breathing with life in the dead of night. Bruce calmed his breathing. The green in his vision faded. _Just a dream,_ he assured himself. _Just a dream. . ._

But words alone were not able to convince him to go back to bed._ Maybe a cup of tea, just to forget about it all. _Bruce stumbled out of the room and down the hall. Every creak and groan of the tower made the man's heart skip a beat. An elevator trip and some more walking brought him to the kitchen. Quickly he flicked the lights on. Wringing his hands and looking side to side, he rummaged through the cabinets. Sleepytime: caffeine free. He set the box aside, filled a mug with water and placed it in the microwave.

_Well,_ that_ was enough to set the other guy off. _Bruce sighed, pressing his palm to his forehead. He was tired. So very tired and the adrenaline was still tearing through his blood. The Hulk snarled low and menacingly, as if to chase away father._ A guardian,_ mused Bruce. "Tch!" _I'm probably just a cage or a vessel to him. . ._

_sff. . ._

Bruce stood up straighter now. He listened, eyes darting this way and that. "Who's there?"

Silence.

Then a pair of blood red eyes appeared.

Bruce blinked. That should have scared him, too. "Loki?"

The jotun stepped gracefully from his spot, shimmering bit by bit into visibility. "I was thinking of having a little fun with you- maybe cutting off an eyebrow while you slept. You're lucky I thought better of it."

_I can't believe it, but it really isn't beyond him. . . _"Um. . .thanks, Loki. That's very nice of you."

Loki leaned against the counter. The microwave beeped. Bruce removed the cup and dunked in the tea bag. "I didn't come here to be nice," informed the recruit. "That monster isn't very fond of me, as you well know."

"None of us were very fond of you at first."

"That's beside the point. I don't want to get hurt- that's the only reason I'm here."

"You intend to help? Loki, this isn't something that can be cured. I tried. . .everything. Nothing worked. This is mine to control and I'm even losing that. I don't think you can-"

"I have heard a great deal of information concerning your 'condition' whilst you were unconscious, Banner. And I have a theory."

"Ok then, you win." Bruce brought the mug to his lips and drank. "Tell me this 'theory' that's suppose to help me get control back."

"Gladly." Loki pulled out a book Bruce hadn't even realized he had been carrying. This was just one of the leather bound treasures the jotun had collected since his arrival. Hours of his time were spent reading whatever books he had brought from the store(something about how mortal logic and thinking spawned such ridiculous ideas). This one, bound in worn leather, had a fine, gold cursive inscribed on the spine and cover. Loki pointed to the name on the bottom. "Do you know this man?"

Bruce read the name out loud. "Sigmund Freud." Immediately terms popped up at the mention of these words. Psychoanalysis. Talking therapy. Oedipus complex. Libid- a wave of red blush washed over Bruce's face.

"So you do know."

"G-get to the point!"

"Of course," the bookworm chuckled. He licked his thumb, flipping through the pages. Forward, backward, a glance back at the table of contents- finally Loki had reached the desired page. He pointed to a diagram of an iceberg and a few paragraphs on the page. "Read from here to here."

Bruce reluctantly set the cup down and took the book. He began to leaf through the words. . .

_As far as the personality goes- our wants, needs, beliefs- only a small fraction is found on the surface. Sigmund Freud believed that most of who we really are can be found in the unconscious and preconscious mind. This unknown self is divided into three parts, as shown in diagram 17.A._

Bruce glanced at the iceberg again.

_Let's start with the positive end of the spectrum. One part of the personality is known as the superego. More or less, this is what we recognize as our conscience- what tells us right from wrong. This is what drives us to to what is morally correct and accepted by society._

_But on the other end, the biggest part of the personality and what makes up the entire unconscious mind, is known as the id. The id is impulsive and demanding, very much like a child, is with us from birth to death. Immediate gratification is all that concerns the id. Many unacceptable parts of the personality are stored here- irrational thoughts and desires deemed disgusting and inappropriate by society. Constantly these two parts- right and wrong, good and evil- are at war with each other, fighting for what they each want._

Bruce bit his lip. Maybe Loki was on to something after all. The scientist turned back to the page.

_So how is one to settle such a conflict? The id and superego certainly can't. But this is where the third part- the ego- comes into play. In the simplest terms, the ego is the referee, working to satisfy both the needs of the id and superego in a single situation. _

_Here's an example: A boy comes home from school with homework, just like any other normal schoolboy. The superego says to start of the homework immediately, but the id says to go out and play. How to solve the conflict? The ego may suggest finishing some homework, then going to take a break and play for a short amount of time. _

Bruce lowered the book. "So what does this have to do with me?"

Loki took the manuscript back. "My theory is that you two are always fighting for control because you can't negotiate. There is no one to settle that conflict. One of you two has to step up and to it yourself."

"Wait, that's not control then. It's. . .some sort of cohabitation that you're suggesting? Symbiosis?"

"For a genius, your are rather dumb, you know?"

For a moment, Bruce did indeed feel sheepish. Yes, he could feel him at times, swimming around inside and growling, but talking? How could that be accomplished? "I don't know," muttered the scientist. "I'll have to get pretty close to him. I'll risk hurting all of you. Can I do that to you all?"

The man suddenly cringed at the Hulk snarled again. "There you go again," commented Loki with a smirk. "I suppose there is such a thing as thinking too much. Take your tea and go back to bed. If you really are so scared of hurting us, then set out tomorrow for someplace where you can be alone and do it then. I gave you the information. Now you use it. Good night, Bruce." The jotun walked away, slowly melding in with the air itself. Bruce was left alone.

He returned to his room with unease. A war between good and evil. Story of his life, it seemed. Was it really that simple, though? It couldn't be. Nothing was ever that easy for him. So why was he still thinking about it? Why was he so hopeful of this mere theory? Bruce tossed and turned in his bed, wrestling the idea to put it down, but all in vain. The other guy growled again. Bruce couldn't take it a second longer.

Untangling himself from the covers, Bruce climbed to the floor and crossed his legs. His hands rested on his knees and his chin on his chest. To get close, Bruce would have to take down the walls he had worked so hard to build, to provoke the monster he had tried so hard to keep down, and walk the tightrope that the lives of his friends hung on. Of course he didn't want to do this, but there would come a day when he couldn't control that monster- that _hulking_ thing- anymore. It was a question of sooner or later.

Bruce counted his breaths. He calmed his heart. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Imagined something nice. Safe. An impenetrable cloud of pure, warm, white light. Not even father could get through. The normal practice for control and calm.

Then the anger and fear. Bruce exhumed it, bit by bit. Mother's death, the bullies from school, father. Especially father. Bruce felt his pulse pick up. The monster stirred, but it wasn't enough. He had to push harder. The court case, being alone all through junior high and high school, the bomb, expulsion, father's death. Everything started to bubble inside of Bruce. The beast got louder. The man really was losing it. Intentionally! His breathing hitched, his heart raced and skipped. Bruce was treading dangerous territory and still the memories pulsed forth. Brazil, Ross, Blonsky, the blood or poor Betty, the countless attempts to cure the Hulk and the innocent victims along the way. A familiar burn crept up. Bruce crumpled from his position, clawing at his scalp. The tesseract, the recruit, the helicarrier, Loki's assassinations. Too much! Too much! That break in what Bruce could have thought was stable, the invasion, endangering the people Bruce could finally call family. And now he was going to break that. Bruce was going to fail. It was all over.

_Hulk knows what puny Bruce is trying to do._

The man froze. No breathing, no movement. Not even his heart dared to throb.

_Leave Hulk alone._

And suddenly it was gone. All of it, like a gust of wind. The burn, the change, the memories- gone and forgotten. Not a single sound came from the other guy. Everything was still.

Bruce didn't know if this was something to be excited for or afraid of. Either way, he didn't go back to sleep that night.

**Breakline**

I'll get into more of why the hulk didn't take over next time, ok? I usually don't write chapters this short, but it seemed like a good place to stop. Review? Stick around for next time? I would really appreciate it. :)

-Magician Irono


	3. Chapter 3

Alrighty then. Let's hop right into it. Can I get maybe one more review please?

Nah, I'm kidding. It would be nice, but do what you want- I won't force you. Enjoy the show!

**Enlightenment**

"Bruce? Hey, Bruce! BRUUUUUUCE!"

Tony beat his fist furiously on Bruce's bedroom door, partially out of a concerned urgency and partially out of a distaste for working by himself the day before. A bundle of papers had been tucked under his arm, just for the scientist. The man checked his watch. 10:03 am. Even Tony was all dressed and clean for the day. Why was Bruce, a work-a-holic early bird, still in his room.

"Hey!" Tony pounded on the door again. "I wanna finish this work so we have time to make something in the lab. That new laser isn't going to build itself, you know, so quit laying in bed and get out here. Right now."

_Fwssh._

The sight before Tony silenced him immediately. Sure, Bruce looked bad the morning before, but this- nothing less than disturbing. Pale skin only emphasized the presence of dark circles beneath Bruce's flaring green eyes. Droplets of sweat dotted his forehead and pinned down a few strands of hair. He slouched forward from another sleepless night, but the posture had been hardened and tensed up by a long duration of just plain being angry. The scowl probably wasn't meant to hurt Tony, but it frightened him a bit. "Ah. . ." Tony flicked his gaze over Bruce again. "You ok, bro?"

Silence.

"I need a #$%*in' shower," muttered the scientist. Bruce trudged past, grumbling to himself about "not meeting halfway" and "clamming up". Tony had been all but ignored.

". . .Jarvis?"

"Yes, sir," replied the A.I.

"What happened to Bruce."

"That is not my information to disclose, sir. If you want to know, perhaps you should question Dr. Banner at a later time."

"You're not telling me."

"I'm not telling you."

Tony paused to think, scratching his chin. "How about some footage from last night?"

"I already said I wouldn't tell you."

"I know. Footage doesn't tell. It shows."

"I-" Jarvis sighed in defeat. "J-just don't tell Bruce I showed you. Please, sir."

"Good boy." Tony pulled out a tablet from his bundle and started tapping on the screen. "Kay, where's that footage."

"It. . .it does not appear that I can find it, sir."

Tony snapped his head up. "Whaddya mean you can't find it?"

"I was cleaning out surveillance records last night, sir. I seemed to have deleted last night's footage by mistake."

Tony could hear that tone of feigned innocence Jarvis put on. If he had a face he'd probably give a false countenance of pity, too. For all of his intelligence and assistance, Jarvis was as much of a smartalec as Tony was himself. "Thanks for the help," said Tony.

"My pleasure, sir."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Just, I dunno, to whatever it is you to when we all work."

"Help you and the other avengers?"

"Yeah, that."

"Of course, sir."

**Breakline**

Bruce walked into the lab in a significantly better condition than earlier. His skin was no longer so pale and he stood up straighter and more relaxed. The anger had faded away as well. Bruce kept his head down as he shuffled to his desk and took a seat. He started to scrawl down some notes on paper. "Sorry about earlier," he muttered.

"Mm." Tony tapped on his tablet, leaning over the back of the chair. "Care to tell me what all happened last night?"

Bruce stopped writing. ". . .I don't know."

"You don't know."

Quiet. When the scientist didn't speak, Tony took it upon himself to move his chair over next to Bruce, who wouldn't look him in the eye. He folded his arms on the back of the chair.

"It's fine that whatever happened disturbs you and all, but I think it has to stop. You clearly can't do that on your own. And if you're trying not to hurt us, I can tell you right now it's going to backfire. So maybe you could, I dunno, grow a pair and tell us what's wro-"

"He spoke to me."

Tony blinked and stood from his seat. "What does that have to to with anything? Who spoke to you, a dead guy? 'Cause I don't believe in that sort of crap."

"No, not a dead guy. The _other_ guy."

"The other guy. You mean the Hulk?" Tony suddenly started to grin and hop up and down like a schoolgirl. "Omgomgomg! Did he, like, seriously talk? _To you?_"

"Yes. . ."

"Aw man, this is so cool. So freaking cool! What'd he say? Why'd he say it? C'mon bro, don't leave me hanging!"

The man removed his glasses and cleaned the lenses with a corner of his shirt, speechless.

"What, did he call you 'puny' and hurt your feelings or something," jested the billionaire, jabbing an elbow into Bruce's shoulder. No response. Tony frowned. He bent down to the other man's level. "Why aren't you happy about this? I figured you'd be more relieved because you two could communicate. Things wouldn't be so hectic with you anymore."

"Yeah." Bruce sighed, resting his head in his hands. "It shouldn't be, but it still feels like it is. The other guy didn't want to talk- just to be left alone. I tried the rest of the night to get that connection again, getting mad and provoking him, but he just wasn't having it. We were fighting, just like we always do."

"You sound like you're in a committed relationship or something."

"That's not the freaking point, Tony!" Bruce slammed his fist on the table, pushing himself out of his chair. Tony nearly dropped his tablet. He listened, on a sort of alert should Bruce lose control. "Don't you get it? Everyone is in danger now more than ever. He'll just take over whenever he wants and I'm not going to be able to stop it. Steve and Loki know that for sure. I don't know what to do, Tony. I can't get control back. I can't talk to the other guy because 'he doesn't want to'. The only other option is to leave and I already know that none of you guys would allow that. There is no way out, Stark. I-"

The man caught himself. It was already starting- Bruce lost control of his anger again, twice in the span of one morning. Tony was already on the defensive. Bruce sat back down in his seat and hid his face behind his hands, knocking off his glasses. "Please," he said quietly. Tear drops dripped onto the desk and paper. "Tony, just- just tell me what I'm suppose to do."

Tony Stark does have a heart. But he didn't know what to do in this situation either. One could only imagine the sting of watching your best friend in his weakest hour, pleading, _begging_, for some shred of repose and being unable to give them that. The billionaire pulled himself a little closer to rub the other's shoulder. Bruce was incredibly quiet when he cried- no sobbing, no wailing, just a sniffle every now and then. Even now he was fighting to keep everything bundled up inside. . .

Bruce suddenly tensed, releasing a small whimper. Tony grimaced. "Bro?"

"I-I gotta go." The scientist rose from his seat and ran for the door. Just before exiting the room, Tony could see a green patch of skin peek out from beneath the collar of Bruce's shirt and couldn't help but run out himself. By the time Tony stepped out of the tower, Bruce was already speeding away on the scooter he stole, leaving a faint dust trail rolling across the blacktop.

**Breakline**

Hours had passed until the small vehicle chugged to a stop, exhausting every last drop of gasoline left in its small tank. Bruce stumbled off his bike. Fortunately the other guy had calmed down again. The man looked around. Tall trees surrounded him on each side of the road. Skimpy clouds had been airbrushed on the sky. Clearly this was new territory. Only then did it seem to matter where Bruce was and how he was going to get home. He paced a few steps away from the bike, wringing his hands. Eventually he sits on the edge of the road and crosses his arms. Maybe a car with a kind driver would pass. Bruce looked to his left. Then his right. _It's not very likely. . . _The man buries his head in his arms. _What do I do?_

_It's always about everyone else. _

Bruce immediately snaps his head up. The other guy- he spoke again!?

_Banner always worry for everyone_, continued the voice. _Why not Hulk? _

The man blinked ."Why not. . ."

_BANNER STUPID! _Bruce recoils in response to a massive explosion of pain in his head, but the beast keeps speaking. _Hulk not monster. Hulk not want to hurt people. Banner never want to talk. Banner only want control. Why Banner not trust Hulk?_

"Hang on, hang on. . ." Bruce massages his temple as he sits back up. "I don't understand. Where is all this coming from?"

_Banner don't know because Banner don't listen. Banner scared. Hulk protects. But Hulk done if Banner always fights Hulk._

The pain subsided. Shock replaced it. Virtually everything he knew about the Hulk had been compromised in about the span of a minute. "Wait, so all those times when I got scared or mad. . .you were only trying to help?"

_Bah! Banner still stupid._

Bruce finally thought about it and didn't think it a far stretch. One of the old methods of finding a liar was to press a hot knife to the suspect's tongue. Liars would receive burns from dry mouth- a sign of nervousness. But innocent people were often mistaken by the same effect, simply because they were afraid of the knife, not guilty of a fib. Perhaps the Hulk didn't know anxiety or, daresay, arousal from fear or panic. It would explain quite a bit and seemed to be a credible hypothesis.

_Hulk knows not to hurt people. Banner thinks Banner knows and Hulk don't. Guess what? Banner _wrong. _Banner hurt Hulk. Hurt Hulk a lot and many times. Make Hulk hurt for a very long time. . ._

_The year of inactivity,_ realised Bruce. "I never knew," he stated meekly. The man wanted to break down and cry again. "I'm sorry. I was just so scared. I didn't think. . ." He bit his knuckle. "Yeah. Banner stupid."

A car could have driven by, the scooter could have been stolen, an entire night could have passed- Bruce wouldn't have noticed any of it. But that's what empathy does to you. Feeling pain when another suffers blots out all the other details. All you want is to fix whatever is wrong. Bruce folded his hands, as if to pray for that result. The beast snorted. Now the man wanted to be near his friends. Some words of wisdom would have been handy. But advice is what you ask for when you already know the answer. Bruce straightened his posture. "So what does Hulk want?"

A pause.

_Peace_, replied the Hulk. _Quiet. Fresh air. Some smash. Not hard to give._

True. Not hard to give at all. Bruce looked behind him, at the trees and sky. The tip of a mountain poked past the canopy. Beyond the trunks lay a shimmering, clear lake. "Like that?"

_Closer look. _So the man stood up, leaving the scooter, and walked through. Leaves and twigs crunched beneath his feet. Birds twittered. Not another soul could be found as Bruce looked about. Suddenly an icy chill pierced his foot. Jumping back he realized that he had stepped in the lake by accident. Bruce peered over. Small fish started to amass together. Far away, on the surface, a family of ducks paddled along in single file. The snow capped mountain still stood firm and strong behind a pair of tree covered hills. Still no one else around.

_Just like this_, commented Hulk. Bruce could feel the other guy stir, itchy to get out. _Not fight Hulk this time?_

Habit almost prevented Bruce from not doing so at first. _Almost. _The man swallowed a lump in his throat. He closed his eyes. "Can you take us home when you're done?"

_Home with friends? Hulk do that._

Bruce let his boundaries crumble down. The Hulk surged forth. The pain was still there, but Bruce Banner was out and gone in a matter of mere seconds.

**Breakline**

When the man had finally stumbled back in the tower, he saw the bottom living room holding a nest of pillows and blankets, every one of the avengers bundled and nestled in their own spots. Bruce didn't want to wake them, but at the same time to do so to alert them that their teammate had come back home. That was why they had all gathered in the living room, after all. Bruce walked around the group to the couch. Adjusting his pants one more time, Bruce sat down and dozed off, wondering if his friends would find it in their hearts to forgive him for running off like so. A low voice sounded just before his head dipped.

_Thank you._

**Breakline**

I like to be experimental when I write fanfiction. In my opinion the Hulk has very good reason to be mad at Bruce himself. The reason is clear- In Bruce's attempt to keep everyone else safe he has neglected Hulk. I hope it's not wrong that I portray the Hulk as his own person, but I will at least attempt to make them one in the same, being two halves of a whole. Hopefully it doesn't get too ridiculous.

So. . .reviews? Please? Stick around for Chapter 4? :3

-Magician Irono


	4. Chapter 4

So Bruce has been behaving strangely. This would be expected. I hope you enjoy the show anyways! Let's not dilly or dally- just jump into it. :)

**Enlightenment**

Bruce twiddled his thumbs as he sat in a chair outside of the director's office. He bit his lip, frankly a bit annoyed. Yes, the man understood the problem and the concerns S.H.I.E.L.D., but was it necessary to set up a meeting without his consent? The quiet didn't make the situation anymore comfortable, let alone acceptable. A few individuals passed by, maybe taking information to another room or making a few copies of some document. He stared at the rorschach painting across the wall. Maybe all the different pictures could take his mind off of things. Two bugs, a floating platform, a monster without a neck, a stalactite. Sadly the pit in Bruce's stomach remained.

A familiar energy pushed forth, just by a hair. _Another cage? _

"Hopefully it won't come to that." Banner kept his voice low. "I wouldn't like to be locked up either. But we gave everybody a good scare, especially the other night. The director will want to know what's going on."

_Director?_

"Fury. He's the one who brought us all together in the first place. The avengers' initiative."

Hulk growled. _Kept secrets. Made weapons. Cage for Hulk. _

"Um. . .yes. Yes, he did all those things. But I like to think he had good intentions. Nuclear weapons are usually there for the threat anyways."

_Not those. . ._

Not only had the other guy displayed feelings and a mind of his own, but now an awareness and knowledge that Bruce couldn't have even detected. Quite a bit happening in such a short time. But it was, undoubtedly, for the better. It had to be if they were talking instead of fighting for control, submerged in their own destructive emotions. "I know he won't have any with him," Bruce reassured. "Fury will just want to talk. You can relax."

A woman opened the door next to Banner. "Director Fury would like to see you now, Mr. Banner."

"Ah, thank you." The man stood up and took a deep breath to calm down some. "Gotta go," he whispered.

_Hulk wait. Banner tell Fury to trust._

Bruce allowed a small flick of a smile to himself. The room was spacious, rather plain. A table and two chairs had been placed in the middle of a tile floor. Fury stood, leaning against the corner of said table with a clipboard tucked under his arm. Ever present was the penetrating one eye glare. "Afternoon, Dr. Banner. Sit."

"Good afternoon to you too, Director." Bruce pulled out a chair and took his seat. After a quick wipe of his sweaty palms on his trousers he folded his hands on the table. Fury sat, shuffling through the papers.

"Dr. Robert Bruce Banner. Age: 42, 5'8", 140 pounds. Occupation in nuclear physics and expert in gamma radiation." Fury thumbs through the documents. "Childhood wasn't necessarily wonderland, was it?"

Bruce frowns. "I don't think that's why I'm here."

"Yes and no." The african man set the clipboard down. "I have several sources associated with you saying that your negative behaviors could be directly linked to your recent lack of control. First sleep deprivation, then an emotional breakdown, withdrawn behavior and now you're supposedly talking to yourself. After your behavioral improvement from having your own 'family', of course this regression brings up some concerns. But whatever the cause may be, you or the Hulk, it needs to be stopped."

A pause. Bruce raised an eyebrow. "But. . .don't we all behave abnormally? Tony is a narcissist, Thor is something of a maniac, Natasha is a conditioned killer for Pete's sake-"

"All of whom have control of their monsters."

Maybe it wasn't the most logical idea to tell his friends his problem. But it was also dumb to keep it bottled up, as Tony had stated the other day. A lose-lose situation. _No trust_, grumbles the Hulk. Bruce folded his arms and looked away. The distaste towards the comment was clear enough.

"What if it wasn't a question of control," said the scientist.

"Excuse me."

Bruce leaned forward, now able to look Fury in the eye. "The Hulk could be good, deep down. We know that because he rescued Tony the day of the Chitauri invasion. The other guy knows friend from foe. Suppose he's smarter than we give him credit for. Something could be, I dunno, worked out maybe?"

Hulk gave a snort of approval in the back of the man's mind. Unfortunately, Fury was not so easily convinced.

"I am aware of that rescue," he replied, "but one act doesn't necessarily make you a hero. And negotiation doesn't work for everybody."

"It could work for him."

"How do you know it would?"

"How do you know it wouldn't?"

"How do I know?" Bruce had already had a darkened brow and a pair of clenched fists beneath the table. Fury remained as calm and collected as ever. He took a small black remote from his pocket. With the press of a button, the lights went out and countless holographic screens appeared. News articles, photographs, documents, very detailed and violent footage. The scientist scans his eyes across the screens, even standing up to turn around and see the rest. A headline read "Student expelled for bomb attempt". Another read "Woman killed by husband. Mentally insane?". A video provided a scene of the Hulk battling for his life- _their _lives- against an old enemy: Abomination, and another against a military squadron. Bruce forgot to close his mouth as he gaped at a frightened beast, lifting up a car to shield himself. _Where did he get all this?!_

"Children who've experienced what you've experienced don't necessarily turn out alright," Fury said, almost mournfully. Banner turned. "My concern is that we may have two different threats within one man. And that man may not just hurt other people but himself as well. I don't want to lock you up, but I will if I have to. You know that."

The scientist bit his lip and looked away. "What are you suggesting that I do, then? See a shrink? Take some kind of pill?"

"Not bad ideas." The director pressed another button on the remote. The screens vanished. Light filled the room again. "I suggest that you at least talk to someone. Put some of your demons to rest."

"I thought you said you didn't know which one of us was the cause."

"Us?"

"You know what I mean."

"Either way," the director continued, "Whether it's the other guy's problem or yours, hopefully solving one will help the other. We do intend to keep an eye on you, though. Figure out your stuff quick, Banner. If you don't-"

"You'll blow us up with one of your 'toys'?"

Fury blinked in response to the sudden sharp tone. His turn to be afraid. Bruce stood across the table with a menacing, green eyed glare, almost as if that horrid beast was staring straight into Fury's soul with Banner's help. The director could almost hear the growling and a snarl to go along with. Bruce blinked. He rubbed his eyes. the usual brown slowly came back. "I'm sorry. I'm a little mad- my friends set this up without saying anything so. . ."

"I am aware of your 'bad mood'. Don't let it get out of hand. You may leave, Mr. Banner."

"Yes, Director." Bruce turned to leave.

"Banner."

The man turned.

"For what it's worth. . .I'm sorry you had to go through all that. No child should suffer what you did."

The scientist smiled sadly. "Nothing can be done about it now. I just need to put it behind me, that's all. Good day, director."

A few steps were made before the door shut out the client. Fury, now left alone, pinched his brow. He pulled up the screens again in a new darkness. By passing his hand over each they disappeared in a cloud of pixels. Only one was left: A diagnostic report with Bruce's name scrawled on the top. The conclusion told of a psychological disorder, afflicted onto Bruce as a mere child, maybe before he went to school. Fury sighed.

"The both of you could get hurt. More so than you already are. . ."

**Breakline**

_No trust at all,_ grumbled the beast.

"It certainly feels like that, doesn't it. I don't know if there's anything we could do though except for keeping ourselves in line. I trust you and I know you won't hurt anybody, but we still have to behave so we can get Fury off our backs."

The commute back to the tower was a relatively quiet one. Bruce wanted to speak to the other guy, but feared disturbing him would hold those consequences that Fury had threatened. neither one of them wanted that, obviously. Night had already fallen when Hulk felt comfortable enough to talk. A soft rain tapped on the glass of the bedroom window. A gentle rumble sounded every once in awhile. Bruce lay on the bed, still clad in his work clothes, cushioning his head with his arms and resting an ankle on the other knee. He stared at the ceiling thoughtlessly. The Hulk, not so much. _Banner not angry_, he inquired.

"Well," Bruce mused, "Maybe a little bit. Not much though. Everyone did it because they were concerned. Same as Fury, even if he has questionable ways of showing it. Besides there's not much I can to about it anyways."

_Banner not helpless. Banner keep Hulk down. Not too puny._

Bruce's stomach dropped. "But I hurt you. I don't want to be strong if it means hurting people close to me, even if it's you."

The Hulk was silent for some time. Why so quiet? Bruce could feel something other than the usual rage emanating from the other presence. Something uncertain, thoughtful and confused. _Why Banner no tell?_

"Tell what?"

_Tell that Hulk talk. Tell that Hulk nice and not hurt friends._

"Well, I _tried_." Bruce sat up from his position and let his feet dangle over the edge of the mattress. "I just. . .didn't want to give all the information."

_ Why?_

The man sighed. How was he going to explain this? Would the other guy understand? He was pretty smart for what everyone else thought- perhaps he could. "Do you know what Dissociative Identity Disorder is?"

_Dissociative. . ._

Bruce huffed. "You know that normal people have one personality each, right?"

A snort in affirmation.

"Well some people don't have just one. Sometimes they have two or three or even more, all completely different from one another. Any one of them could take over at any time. It. . . leads to a lot of conflict and turmoil, and they develop because the people who have them can't always deal with the pain they have. Someone else has to take care of it, I think."

A pause._ So Banner. . ._

"I was diagnosed at a young age, so it was bound to come up in those reports that the director pulled up. If I outright told him he probably would have locked us up for sure." Bruce was probably hurting Hulk again. The man's gaze fell. "I don't think anyone can know, about my disorder or us talking like this. Otherwise we'd end up where we don't want to be. I was trying to return the favor of you looking out for me all this time. Did. . .did I make things worse for you?"

There was a low grumble, indistinguishable from the thunder. Hulk certainly was thinking hard about this, muttering to himself time and again. _Nah,_ he finally decided. _Maybe hide for best. Work good before. Banner nice. Banner try hard._

Bruce smiled. "Thanks, Hulk. I appreciate that."

_Crak!_

Bruce jumped. The storm had suddenly become so close, so billowy and powerful. Hulk started to roar and struggle out of the man's body. Said body curled up into a tight ball. "E-easy there, big guy," Bruce said. "Just a storm, that's all it is."

_Not storm! Gunshots! Weapons! Ross! Hulk must escape!_

"No. Just c-calm down, ok? No one w-will hu-hurt us. They're gone." The beast started to settle down, remaining aware. Bruce turned to the window. "Use my eyes. See? It's a thunderstorm. N-not dangerous at all."

"Residents of stark tower," Jarvis suddenly sounded. "The storm is becoming too dangerous for you to stay on the upper floors unharmed. Bring few provisions and quickly evacuate to the basement. Avoid using the elevators in case of a blackout."

"We shall obey, Jarvis the tower," Thor called enthusiastically from another room. Amazing how loud he could be at such a late hour.

"A-alright." Banner stood himself up, still burning. "Maybe they are. But not the way the army was." The man pulled his blanket and pillow off the bed. Hulk listened intently, still frightened. "But all our friends are here. If we all stick together and protect each other, then nothing can harm us."

_ Not even Ross?_

"Not even Ross. Just relax, ok. I'll take us downstairs. Maybe it won't be so noisy."

One by one the avengers stumbled out of their rooms. Clint walked into Tony's room without hesitation. A great fuss sounded after the door shut. Stark clearly didn't want to move, but after a fresh crack of thunder, the man scrambled out in nothing but his boxers, the tail of a blanket billowing behind. Bruce chuckled. Only Tony.

The thunder had been reduced to a muffled rumbling beneath the extra floors. No tapping to disturb them either. Tony took the couch that had been placed there ("It's my $#*^in' tower- I sleep where I $#*^in want!") No one else argued and either took their place on a chair or the floor. Bruce curled up on the ground and closed his eyes.

"Hey, Bruce," said Tony.

"Hm," answered Bruce.

"I wanna sleep. No talking to yourself."

"Too tired to care," commented Natasha. "Just don't talk back. . ."

"Explain in the morning," asked Steve.

Everyone dropped off to sleep as soon as they were so rudely awoken. Even the Hulk had begun to doze off himself. Bruce amused himself with an image of a sleepy Hulk in pajamas and a night cap. Maybe even a teddy bear. "Good night, big guy," he whispered.

Nothing answered the man. Seconds later he had plunged into his own warm sleep. Bruce wasn't sure what would come in the future, but with his friends so close by and his guardian even closer, the man would be able to find courage somehow.

**Breakline**

Did some research on Bruce Banner. Blew my mind, dudes. Due to excessive bullying at school, Bruce build a bomb and attempted to blow up his own school (failed to do so due to a defective bomb) and got expelled because of it. Also at a young age, Bruce was diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder, caused by his father's abuse. Pretty sad. :'(

But there's another chapter. Sorry if Fury was written out of character, or even Bruce. I don't know, something felt off. The update date?

Please review you guys. See you all in chapter 5!

-Magician Irono


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